Virtual Insanity (Twelfth Doctor Adventures 2)
by WandererInTime
Summary: The Doctor takes new companion Charlie on his first trip in the TARDIS, to a world in the future. Promising him a bustling planet of fantastic technology, the Doctor instead finds a deserted citadel. What happened to the colonists? And what lies at the heart of the mysterious dark tower?
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to the Future

**Author's Notes**

 **This is the second in the series of Twelfth Doctor Adventures, featuring the Doctor and Charlie Drake. It follows _Lucid Dreams_ , in which Charlie met the Doctor. **

**_**The story so far...**_**

 **Despite a warning from Kate Stewart, head of UNIT, the Doctor has decided to take Charlie with him on adventures in the TARDIS, although this is mainly to avoid a time travel paradox.**

* * *

With a hypnic jerk, Charlie's eyes snapped open.

His heart beat sporadically for a moment, as he fought the sudden anxiety of waking in a strange place.

He was no longer at home, but in the TARDIS, amongst its dancing, pulsing lights.

"Sleep well?" the Doctor asked.

"Um…?" Charlie grunted, massaging his temples.

He couldn't think of the last thing that happened before he fell asleep. Nor could he remember what he was dreaming about. Something to do with being chased by a hideous monster? Or did that actually happen?

He stretched, and looked up at the Doctor. He had his back to him, and he appeared to be carefully adjusting some controls.

No, last night wasn't a dream. The nightmare had been real.

The Doctor whirled around. His ever-present glare examined him, and then re-examined him, just for good measure.

"Are you alright?"

The Doctor was evidently trying to show concern, but his tone sounded more frightening than comforting.

"Yes," Charlie mumbled automatically.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. If he could tell anything from Charlie's response, he wasn't revealing it.

"You weren't bothered by the dream again?"

"No," Charlie replied, a hint of genuine relief in his voice.

He could only recall snippets of his dream; it was already beginning to recede from his memory.

"You kept mentioning a name."

The Doctor turned back to the console, pretending that a readout on the TARDIS monitor was more interesting than his comment.

"A name? What name?" Charlie returned, a little quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

The Doctor mulled over Charlie's questions, and shrugged.

"Don't know. I didn't think it was important at the time, so I didn't bother to remember it. Not sure why I asked, really."

Charlie studied the Doctor for a moment, trying to work out what he knew.

He quickly masked his concern with an attentive grin, before the Doctor swung back to face him.

"Anyway," he chirped, leaning back on the console, "you're awake now, so I'll land the TARDIS. I didn't think you'd want to miss your first visit to the future."

The Doctor's eyes were glowing with a childlike intensity – a passion, perhaps. It was an expression Charlie had last seen when they were hounded by a demonic creature, and were running for their lives.

"I would have woken you earlier, because I was getting bored, but let's be honest, humans are very funny about their forty winks," the Doctor added with an introspective frown.

Charlie threw the Doctor a bemused look. He'd already forgotten that the Doctor was an alien, and it was strange to hear the word 'humans' mentioned in such a way.

"So where are we? Where are we going?"

The Doctor pushed the TARDIS screen towards him, and Charlie stood up to examine it more closely.

He was looking at a grey world, with huge continents of steel - fractured by streaks of copper.

There were sprawling circular and hexagonal shapes blossoming from the picture, constantly shifting and changing. It was information in an alien language – the Doctor's language. Perhaps it described the planet's history, population, and details of the ecosystem?

Charlie had no idea. But his gaze kept snapping back to the metallic planet, and he felt a sudden surge of excitement, heightened by the sound of the TARDIS' distinctive engines. They had landed.

"Solos Nine," the Doctor announced. "Located in the Solos Nebula, which is sometimes known as the Cyclops Nebula – don't ask me why. It was named by the humans who colonised the planet, as well as several others in this system."

"Another world… in the future?" Charlie muttered.

It seemed so strange that just days ago, he was living his boring life, oblivious to the possibility of alien creatures and planets. Oblivious to life outside his own front door. Oblivious to everything.

"The technology here's really something," the Doctor professed. "It's far more advanced, and _way_ more impressive than yours."

"Is it safe? Outside?" Charlie suddenly thought to ask.

The Doctor tilted his head, deliberating his response.

"Probably." He shrugged. "No extreme temperatures. No dangerous levels of radiation. Although," he tapped a gauge on the console, "that meter's never worked properly."

He looked up, a gleam in his eye. "Shall we take a look?"

Charlie grinned. "Why not?"

The Doctor flicked a switch on the console, and with a hum, the TARDIS doors opened.

He held out his palm, and pointed Charlie towards the doorway.

"After you."


	2. Chapter 2: The Dark Planet

Charlie stepped outside, taking slow, cautious steps.

He was immediately hit by an array of strange noises and aromas; buzzing of machinery, a whooshing sound, and the smell of barbequing.

Even the air tasted different. It had more of a metallic tang than the Earth's atmosphere he was accustomed to, like the scent of old keys.

And yet the sight was the most impressive. The TARDIS had landed in an alleyway. All around them, dizzyingly high skyscrapers rose into a black and smoky sky. Neon lights blazed from posters on the sides of buildings. On the ground, ruts filled with discoloured water indicated that it had just been raining.

"This is…" Charlie uttered.

He was lost for words.

"There's some really exciting tech here," the Doctor called out, as he followed Charlie outside, closing the TARDIS doors shut behind them, "so be prepared for a science lesson – you've been warned." The Doctor fixed him with a serious stare. "I'm a bit of a 'science geek'…"

Charlie nodded, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was still absorbing this amazing, if a little dark and gloomy, sight, his mouth half open in stupor.

"Solos Nine was at the forefront of technology and innovation," the Doctor explained. "Nanotech implants. Micron fuel cells. Automatic doors!"

Charlie ceased nodding, and was about to question him about that last one, but the Doctor kept speaking with such energy, and he didn't have a chance to get a word in.

"I wonder if we're in the heart of the _Future-dome_ , the galaxy's leading establishment for science and research…?"

The Doctor faltered, as he drank in the surroundings.

Just a few metres from them, he spotted a large industrial waste disposal unit: a skip overflowing with rubbish.

"Nope," he grumbled, "this is where they keep the bins."

"Ah," conceded Charlie, pensively observing the Doctor's disappointed expression.

"Still, there's no point going to the tourist spots all the time," the Doctor continued jovially, "You miss out on the whole experience."

"Yes," Charlie agreed vacantly. A light drizzle began to soak his hoodie, and drum on the metal walkways above him.

The Doctor frowned, pushing the flaps of his jacket aside; the red lining the only flash of colour in the darkness.

It took Charlie a moment to notice what the Doctor was staring at.

One of the buildings had caught his eye. It was impossibly tall; its peak was encapsulated by the murky clouds above them. Charlie tried to fathom what the Doctor was thinking. There were no flickering lights to draw attention to it. The tower was black, featureless – no windows or ledges. No symbols to indicate its purpose. If it weren't for its size, it might have passed completely unnoticed.

"What is it?" Charlie asked. "Some sort of government building?"

"Not sure," the Doctor replied, his gaze locked on the tower.

"Is there even a government here?" Charlie pondered. He looked around the alley. "And where are the people? Shouldn't there…"

The Doctor began to walk down the street, his boots ringing out on the metal flooring as he stepped. Charlie followed just behind, as the Doctor started to theorise.

"There was a government last time I was here. And people. Solos Nine is – or was – a very densely populated planet. There should be loads of people, even in the lower levels. But that building wasn't there. I wonder if there's a connection."

"Maybe it's new," Charlie suggested.

"No," the Doctor muttered. "I mean, yes, of course it's new. But look at it!"

The Doctor pointed up at it, and motioned to the other buildings around it.

Charlie studied them, feeling as though he was playing a ludicrous game of spot the difference.

He stared, blinking as the rain spat in his eyes.

Compared to its smaller neighbours, the building looked more like a tower of rock. The surrounding skyscrapers were angular and geometric, whereas the tower looked as though it had developed naturally, the product of thousands of years of erosion. It didn't match.

"It doesn't belong here?" Charlie guessed.

"Mm-hmm," the Doctor agreed. "I'd like to get a better look."

He took off, navigating the maze of streets, trying to find a way up to the tower.

"So… do humans go to a lot of other planets in the future?" Charlie asked conversationally, struggling to keep up with the Doctor.

"Oh yes," the Doctor enthused, "there are loads of other worlds out there, inhabited by humans."

"That's pretty cool," Charlie grinned.

"You lot spread out all across the universe," the Doctor continued excitedly, "like a virus!"

Charlie paused, and frowned. "Excuse me? A virus?"

The Doctor stopped, and mirrored his frown. "Sorry. I don't mean that in a bad way."

"Right…"

"I just meant that humans always find a way to survive. They're tough. They're resilient to everything the universe throws at them."

Charlie nodded. "I think I see what you mean."

"That instinct for survival raises its own problems, of course. Overpopulation. So you go and find new worlds to live on."

"I see."

"But overpopulation isn't the _only_ reason you lot upped and left," the Doctor explained chirpily. "The Earth was devastated by solar flares. The heat and the radiation became unbearable."

"That sounds a bit grim," Charlie muttered.

"You seek out new planets and terraform them. Wipe uninhabitable worlds clean, and rebuild them so you can live there."

"Well, that's good," Charlie offered, hopefully.

The Doctor shot him a disparaging look.

"It tends to destroy all the local wildlife and unbalances the natural ecosystem…"

Charlie's face fell, and he felt crushed by guilt, on behalf of his species.

"From what you're saying, I'm really struggling to see the positives of this."

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm just saying that there are two sides to every coin. Sometimes more. Nothing's ever black and white. Life's never that simple."

Charlie reflected on the Doctor's points, as he watched a pigeon-like bird swoop overhead.

"I'm getting the impression that you secretly hate us, or something?"

"There's nothing secret about it," the Doctor muttered dryly.

"Oh," Charlie grunted. He wondered why the Doctor was even talking to him, if he disliked him so much.

The Doctor turned to him, a smug smile on his face as he regarded Charlie's confused expression.

"I'm only joking! I actually really admire you as a species," he insisted. "You're so imaginative, and inquisitive. You reach for the stars, because you want to know what they're made of. You journey halfway across the universe, just to see if the grass is greener - or a completely different colour! It's not all doom and gloom."

"And what about the whole 'destroying other worlds' thing?" Charlie argued.

The Doctor sighed.

"I was exaggerating a little. Most of the time, you pick worlds that have been extinct for millennia."

"And the other times?"

"Well, you're just trying to do what's right. Solve problems. But solving problems _always_ creates more problems," the Doctor reasoned.

Charlie nodded. "I guess…"

The Doctor stopped, and pointed across the walkway. "Over there!"

Charlie frowned, peering into a dingy corner of the street. There was a rusting metal cage, sitting at the bottom of a groove that ran down the side of a skyscraper. Iron bars were welded across the front, so that it looked like a tiny prison cell.

"A worker's lift," the Doctor explained. "Perhaps we should try going up?"

Charlie looked up at him, aghast. Were they really going to step inside this contraption? It was a tiny metal box, which looked about as safe as an umbrella in a hurricane.

Before he could complain, the Doctor bounded towards it and wrenched the door open.

"You're not serious…?"

The Doctor returned Charlie's glare. He was serious.

" _Get in!_ "

Charlie eyed the cage cautiously, but obeyed the Doctor regardless. As he entered, it creaked under his weight.

"Okay, no," he protested.

But the Doctor was already beside him, sliding the door shut.

It was even darker inside the cage, but Charlie could make out a very basic control panel, bolted to the wall.

He pressed one of the buttons on the panel. Nothing happened. So much for this fabulous future technology the Doctor had described.

He turned to the Doctor, whose lips were pursed, looking at him as if he were an idiot.

"It's not working," Charlie commented.

"That's because there's no power," the Doctor enlightened him.

Charlie rubbed his eyebrows in frustration.

"Great," he groaned, "Why are we still in here?"

"Shush!"

The Doctor pulled a strange tool from inside his coat, and adjusted some minute controls.

Charlie was hit with a moment of revelation as he studied the Doctor's device. He'd seen it before. The Doctor had been using it when they first met.

The Doctor raised the tool, and it emitted a low-pitched _whirr_ , accompanied by a soft red glow.

The inside of the lift burst into life: a strip light above them began to flicker and buzz; a screen on the control panel lit up with two arrows – pointing up and down.

The Doctor pocketed his device, and stabbed at the 'up' arrow a couple of times.

A few seconds later, the cage trembled. Gears and cogs crunched in protest as they took off from the ground.

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, aware that their ride skywards was shaking a little more than he was entirely comfortable with.

"Hmm," the Doctor mused, "that doesn't sound right."

He threw a mystified glance at Charlie.

"You know, I don't think this lift's been used in a long time. The mechanism must be a little worn-"

"Oh my god!" Charlie groaned, peering through the metal railings, at the incredibly stable and solid ground disappearing below.

It looked like there was no backing out now. They were on a one-way trip to the top of a building, in an elevator of dubious reliability. And once again, the Doctor wasn't inspiring any confidence in him.

Charlie was beginning to wonder whether the future really was as fantastic as he'd imagined. He was currently feeling it wasn't that much better than his own time.

The Doctor had promised him wonders, but all they'd ended up with was a rickety old lift crawling up the side of a building in an empty city.

Was accepting the Doctor's offer to travel with him really worth it?

 _Yes,_ Charlie decided. _It would be._

As he mulled over the decisions that had led him to this spot, Charlie ran his fingernail across the metal bars, making a _zinging_ noise.

The Doctor was watching him, probably silently criticising him for being childish.

The lift was quite slow; it would take them a few more minutes to get to the top of the building.

"What was that thing you used back there?" Charlie asked, after a while.

The Doctor fished the device out from his coat pocket, and waved it at Charlie.

"Sonic screwdriver," he announced with pride. "Don't know what I'd do without it."

The screwdriver had a polished wooden handle, ergonomically crafted so it fit comfortably in the Doctor's hand. The main section appeared to be a bulging cylinder of white plastic, with thin, black strips connecting it to the head: a red metallic ring, encompassing a similarly tinted diode.

"Right…?"

"It's a little gadget of my own invention."

The Doctor's face was that of an excited kid, showing off a new toy.

"This is the latest model. It's got a red light. And an _emitter ring!_ I always wondered what had happened to that."

Charlie frowned.

"What does it do?"

"It does all sorts of things," the Doctor proclaimed, "Opens doors, interfaces with computer terminals, cauterises wounds. But,"-an index finger jabbed the air-"it doesn't work on wood, and has no effect on a deadlocked seal. Really must patch that, actually, it's surprising how often it crops up…"

Charlie nodded.

"I meant, how does it work?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, surprised the boy had thought to ask. No-one else ever asked.

"It sends signals using soundwaves, manipulating electromagnetic fields. Its processor interfaces directly with the brain. Essentially, it generates a physical manifestation of thought."

"I'm not sure I…"

"Physics," the Doctor explained.

Charlie shot the Doctor a puzzled frown.

"Naturally, I don't expect you to understand it all, so I wouldn't bother trying."

"But why do you call it a screwdriver?"

The Doctor smiled to himself.

"That's what it was, originally. I have to admit, I got a bit carried away…"

He twisted a dial embedded in the midsection. The screwdriver let off a high-pitched whine.

"I just kept adding things. It's now got dampers and – oh, yes! – a setting to reverse the polarity of the flow of neutrons!"

Charlie stared at the screwdriver. This was the product of several hundred years of hard work, with constant refinements, improvements and bug fixes. And all he could offer was:

"Neutrons don't _have_ a polarity."

The Doctor looked hurt, and hurriedly put the sonic away, as if to shield it from his words.

"Shut up!"

With a screech of grinding metal, the lift ground to a halt – as did their conversation.

Charlie's stomach lurched. They had reached the top.

The Doctor pulled open the second door, and led the way out onto the rooftop.

"You used that to break into my house?" Charlie remarked.

The Doctor's eyes twinkled. "Shh!"

What else was the Doctor not telling him?


	3. Chapter 3: DREAMER

The Doctor began to amble across the rooftop, looking around.

Charlie looked over the edge of the railing that lined the roof. He soon wished he hadn't. It was a _very_ long way down to street level. It made his head spin, and he quickly stepped back.

"What a view!" the Doctor exclaimed, stepping up to the railings. He leaned right over, and Charlie felt nauseous on his behalf.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, glad to take his eyes off the Doctor, standing perilously close to the edge.

A dozen pings of notifications rolled up the screen.

"That's weird," he muttered, "I've got a signal."

The Doctor shot him a disgruntled look.

"What are you doing on your phone? You'll miss things!"

"Yeah…" Charlie replied, distracted by a barrage of adverts that popped up, promoting everything from taxi services, to pizza take-outs, and college applications.

Finally, one last notification appeared.

It merely said:

CONNECT TO DREAMER.

The words were accompanied by a graphic of a blue cloud breaking up into pixels.

"I think it's connected to some kind of local network," Charlie mused aloud.

"Yeah, all your data's probably being harvested, but never mind that," the Doctor interrupted him, "Look at this!"

He was pointing up at a rail, elevated several metres in the air, connecting all the buildings together, like a giant spider's web. One of the tracks led to the tall, rocky building, piercing it like a needle through a thumb.

"Monorail. Usually known as the Maglev train. You've got them on Earth, but it'll be a long time before its use becomes more widespread."

He paused, wondering whether he should check if Charlie was still listening, before continuing his lecture.

"It works using a _super_ conductor."

The Doctor's Glaswegian accent emphasised the word 'super', and Charlie's attention snapped back to him. He realised that the Doctor was probably trying to teach him something, so he made sure that he at least _looked_ like he was paying attention, and put his phone away.

"You see, how that works is-"

"I know how it works," Charlie interjected.

The Doctor paused, and glared at Charlie in scepticism.

"You what?"

Charlie shrugged. "I know how a superconductor works."

Charlie wasn't sure why the Doctor was so surprised. He wasn't trying to be rude. It was just that he'd already studied this in physics lessons.

"Do you?" the Doctor uttered.

Charlie nodded. "Yeah."

"Go on then, explain it to me like I'm six hundred," the Doctor challenged.

"You mean, like you're six?" Charlie corrected him.

"No, six year olds have a surprising grasp of the fundamental laws of the universe," the Doctor maintained. Catching Charlie's confusion, he added: "Well, they do on my planet… Explain away!"

Charlie took a deep breath, wondering why the Doctor was testing him like this. It felt like he'd been called up to the front of class. It made him feel a little sick in his stomach, and he hoped that it had nothing to do with the air, or a ride in the worst lift in the universe.

"Okay, so, underneath each train is a magnet. On the track, there'll be some kind of conductive strip."

He held his hands parallel to each other, to give a visual aid to his explanation.

"Because of gravity, the magnet falls towards the superconductor."

"Mm-hmm," agreed the Doctor.

"It's exerting a force on those conductive strips, which generates a current to oppose that force."

"Lenz's law," added the Doctor, "Not unlike Newton's third law. Every reaction has an equal and opposite…"

He trailed off, catching Charlie's expression.

"Sorry. I'll stop interrupting. You keep going."

"So, that induced current in the track creates a magnetic field, which repels the magnet."

The Doctor nodded, his intense glare making Charlie feel rather nervous as he finished:

"Normally, the conductive strips would offer a resistance to the flow of electricity running through it. But because it's a superconductor, cooled below a critical temperature, it doesn't have this resistance. That means the current will continue to flow. The magnetic field remains, and the magnet hovers permanently," Charlie concluded, his confidence growing, "And you get a floating train."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

"All right, enough of your A-level physics," he objected. "We'll see who knows more about _proper_ science."

He prodded Charlie in the chest.

"Have you ever reversed a planet's rotation?"

"I can't say I've ever had the opportunity…"

"Can you engineer a black hole? Suspend the decay of a supernova in chronic hysteresis?"

"Can you?" retorted Charlie.

The Doctor tilted his head. "Sort of…"

Charlie smirked.

The Doctor poked him again. "Look, who's going to stand there looking impressed when I'm saying something science-y and clever?"

Charlie scratched his ear, unsympathetically.

The Doctor crossed his arms, and wandered off across the rooftop, sulking.

His attention returned to the tower.

Even at the top of this building, with the roofs of the others visible below, the uppermost point of the tower was still obscured by smoky clouds.

"How tall is that thing?" Charlie pondered aloud.

"No idea," admitted the Doctor, "but I think we should take a closer look. Something's not right. I have this feeling of… kenopsia."

"Of what?"

"Kenopsia. It's like a ghost town. I don't like ghost towns."

"More of a ghost city," offered Charlie. "You think we should go in there?"

"My instincts tell me that it's where we'll find answers. And my instincts tend to be eighty-four percent accurate," the Doctor proclaimed.

"That's not actually _that_ promising," Charlie pointed out.

"It's better than yours."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe."

He rubbed his arms, the cold wind biting at him through his hoodie. He nodded at the tower.

"How do we get over there?"

The Doctor pointed up at the Maglev rails. The track ran through the rooftop they were standing on, and pierced the black tower.

"We take the train."

Charlie glanced around. There was no sign of one coming.

"Are you sure? Are the trains even running?"

"I don't know!" the Doctor grumbled, "There's probably an app for it. Look on your phone."

Charlie muttered about the Doctor making up his mind, as he fished in his pocket for his phone.

He found an advert for the monorail, and tapped on it.

"It says one'll be here in less than two minutes."

Another box popped up, urging him to connect to 'DREAMER'. It seemed very persistent.

"What is this?" he asked, showing it to the Doctor.

"I don't know. I don't go on the internet, except to google proverbs and/or fairy tales. And I sometimes look at pictures of cats wearing sunglasses," the Doctor admitted.

Charlie shot him a confused glance. He couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

The Doctor's coat flapped in the bitter wind, as they waited for the monorail to arrive. He was shuffling from foot to foot, already restless.

"Uh… what's that?" Charlie asked, gesturing towards a speck in the distance, drifting out from behind a building.

"Hmm?" the Doctor frowned, following Charlie's gaze.

It was a basketball sized robot, zipping through the air towards them.

"At a guess, a security drone."

A flutter of panic rushed to his head. "Are we…?" Charlie muttered, "Are we not supposed to be here, or something?"

"Of course we're not supposed to be here! I'm from another planet, and you're from the past."

The sphere shot up to them, and began observing them carefully, its camera twitching erratically.

It was a gleaming black orb; a sphere so perfectly constructed, there didn't seem to be any joins – no indications that it was man-made.

It beeped.

"IDENTIFY," a robotic voice stated tonelessly.

"Ah, yes, hello," the Doctor spoke animatedly, "I'm the Doctor. This is my friend Charlie."

He twisted round, without breaking eye contact with the droid, and pointed at Charlie with both index fingers.

Charlie, on the other hand, did not respond to the sphere. He watched it warily.

"YOU ARE… ++CHARLIE DRAKE++ AND… ++UNKNOWN++."

"It knows who I am?" Charlie questioned.

"Data harvesting," the Doctor mumbled, "It knows everything about you."

"That's a little disconcerting," Charlie admitted. "But it doesn't know who you are?"

"No. No-one knows who I am," the Doctor whispered back.

"EXPLAIN YOUR PRESENCE HERE," the sphere demanded.

"We're just travellers, sightseers," the Doctor quickly explained.

"EXPLAIN YOUR PRESENCE HERE," it repeated.

"We're visitors to the planet," the Doctor said, more slowly this time.

"EXPLAIN YOUR PRESENCE HERE."

"I want to find out where all the people have gone. Where _is_ everyone?" the Doctor asked, somewhat frustrated.

The sphere pondered his words for a moment, bobbing gently up and down, noiselessly.

"YOU WISH TO INTEGRATE?"

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," the Doctor grumbled, "But I'd like to see them, yes."

"YOU WISH TO ESCAPE REALITY?"

Charlie felt a sudden shiver of unease.

"I don't like that," he confessed, "What does that mean?"

The way the sphere had spoken had a sinister edge to it. It was the only sentient thing they'd encountered so far, and Charlie wasn't convinced it had good intentions. Where were all the people? What had happened to them? Had this thing attacked them?

"Is it going to kill us?" he asked.

The Doctor shot him a condescending look.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"YOU WISH TO ESCAPE REALITY?" the sphere asked again, in the exact same tone of voice.

"Why would I want to do that?" the Doctor asked.

"SO THAT YOU MAY DREAM FOR ETERNITY."

"Okay…" Charlie backed away, convinced the sphere was going to kill them. "Doctor…?"

He glanced at the Doctor, who suddenly seemed very unsure.


	4. Chapter 4: Integration

"YOU WISH TO ESCAPE REALITY?" the sphere repeated.

"Doctor? Maybe we should just go?" Charlie suggested.

The Doctor threw him a look of sheer disappointment.

"Without finding out what happened?" he exclaimed. "Don't you care?"

"Of course I care!" Charlie objected, nodding at the sphere floating towards them. "I just don't want to die!"

The Doctor regarded him for a moment.

"Well, that's good," he decided. "Anyway, the train's coming."

Charlie glanced behind them. The Maglev was indeed gliding towards them. It would be here in maybe fifteen seconds.

But he seriously doubted that it could offer any protection against a deadly robot.

"YOU WISH TO ESCAPE REALITY?"

The Doctor and Charlie retreated slowly towards the Maglev boarding platform.

The sphere kept drifting towards them.

The Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, and raised it defensively, just in case.

"Could you, perhaps, rephrase the question?" the Doctor asked politely.

"YOU WISH TO CONNECT TO DREAMER?" it suggested.

"Oh!" the Doctor uttered in realisation, shooting an exasperated look at Charlie. "It's an advertisement!"

"What?" Charlie uttered.

"For that app on your phone," the Doctor explained.

Charlie frowned, pulling his smartphone out, just to check.

He was bombarded with another series of pop-ups telling him to connect to DREAMER.

"You were getting worked up over nothing," the Doctor chuckled.

"So were you!" Charlie reminded him.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes in contempt.

"YOU WISH TO CONNECT-"

"Yes!" the Doctor snappily replied, "We'll do that straight away, as soon as we've found everyone else."

The sphere continued to observe him, but made no further attempts to communicate.

The Doctor put his screwdriver away, and climbed up the metal stairway to the train.

The sleek carriages were illuminated inside. Unsurprisingly, they were all empty.

A glass door hissed open as they approached.

The carriage was heated inside, and Charlie realised how flustered he had become under the scrutiny of the robot. He rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

The Doctor pointed at a glowing orange orb just to the left of the door as they entered.

"Scanner."

"I've got a rail card," Charlie muttered, his voice still a little shaky, "but I have a feeling that it might have expired."

"Don't you have any galactic credits on you?" the Doctor teased.

"Strangely, no."

The Doctor rubbed his chin, in mock-contemplation. "Hmm. Me neither."

"I think we might need your sonic screwdriver again," Charlie suggested.

"Nah…"

The Doctor pulled out a black leather wallet from his jacket. He opened it, and flashed a blank card at the machine. He winked as he returned the wallet to his pocket.

Charlie shook his head, as the maglev train slid smoothly towards their destination.

The black orb was still hovering outside the train, but it remained at the platform, and didn't make a move to follow them.

Frankly, he felt silly that he'd believed the thing was going to kill him.

The Doctor stood in silence, observing the constant stream of posters and advertisements suspended outside the windows. It always surprised the Doctor, that even though they were several thousand years into the future, there was still a half price sofa sale on.

As the tower loomed ahead of them, the train entered the jaws of a foreboding tunnel, taking them directly into the building. The inside was just as dark as the exterior, and Charlie couldn't help but feel intimidated.

The train decelerated so efficiently that he hadn't noticed when they'd stopped.

Charlie stepped out, trying to make sense of his surroundings. However, it was too dark see more than a few metres around the train; the only source of light was from the carriage itself. At least, until the train retreated into the tunnel, plunging them into complete darkness.

Charlie had to rely on his other senses. However, they were useless: he learnt little from the white noise echoing around the vast building. Rumbling… creaking machinery… whispering…

The Doctor tapped him on the shoulder, making him flinch, and handed him a pocket torch. He flicked it on. The beam was narrow, but bright.

The Doctor and Charlie ducked through a small archway, and the reverberating echoes of their footsteps on the metal walkway indicated that they had entered a much larger room. The Doctor also had a torch, and their beams danced around the immense chamber, towering high above them – and plummeting far below. The industrial gantry they were striding across suddenly felt very unstable.

Charlie glanced at the Doctor, ascertaining if he was concerned by the drop. The Doctor noticed Charlie's apprehension, and broke the silence.

"I hope you don't have vertigo."

"Uh… a little, I guess," Charlie muttered.

"Yes…" the Doctor concurred, "I used to have a fear of heights, a long time ago. It's a bit of a long story, although it's safe to say it was a while before I visited Jodrell Bank again."

Charlie listened to the Doctor, didn't understand what he was saying, and decided to move on, inspecting the large chamber more intently.

The space was not empty. There were rows upon rows of racks, stretching both above and below them. Each row contained hundreds of compartments, glowing softly, a pale shade of blue. Thick, black cables snaked between them.

"Remind you of anything?" the Doctor prompted.

Charlie moved closer to one of the compartments.

"Yeah… it's like the inside of a computer. Or a server room. These compartments are like… network hubs."

"A server room… on a massive scale." The Doctor craned his neck, pointing his torch skywards. The torch beam was not powerful enough to illuminate the roof of the building, nor the ground – such was the vastness of the tower.

"I have a feeling this facility extends beyond this tower."

"Deeper underground?" Charlie speculated.

"Blows your mind, doesn't it?"

Charlie grunted in agreement.

The Doctor was examining one of the compartments, leaning over the railings slightly, oblivious to the dark drop beneath him. Charlie focused instead on the Doctor's torch beam.

Within the compartment, there was a cylindrical pod, a few metres in length, filled with some kind of fluid. The fluid appeared to be quite viscous; he had difficulty seeing clearly through it. Transparent, twisting pipes pumped the fluid into and out of the cylinder.

Charlie joined the Doctor, and reached out to touch the pod, not daring to think what would happen if the gantry gave way. The thought of falling hundreds of metres to his death made his fingers itch.

The pod felt cold, but it wasn't glass: a type of plastic, perhaps, or a material that hadn't been invented yet.

"I've seen these before…" muttered the Doctor, "But not here."

Something moved inside the tank, and Charlie flinched as a hand reached out to meet his. His eyes wide, he withdrew his hand, and turned to the Doctor. The pale, almost skeletal hand remained still.

"I think we've found our missing people," the Doctor whispered.

Each compartment was filled with an identical tank, presumably containing a human being.

"Are they tombs?" Charlie questioned. "Is this a tomb?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I think they're all still alive."

He scanned the pod with the sonic screwdriver to confirm his supposition.

"They're in a comatose state. They're all unconscious, but the brain is active."

The light behind the Doctor's eyes indicated that ancient cogs were whirring. He was trying to work out exactly what was happening.

"I think it's exactly as you said," he whispered.

"A tomb?"

"No, a server."

The Doctor's knuckles rubbed his pursed lips.

"Networked. These minds are all connected to each other. All their social interactions are taking place virtually."

Charlie frowned, trying to keep up with the Doctor's conclusions.

"What, like Facebook?"

The Doctor sighed. "No, not like Facebook. But the idea's there. They're all living in a virtual reality. A dream world. More like the Matrix."

The Doctor caught sight of Charlie's perplexed expression.

"Has the Matrix come out yet? The original, I mean."

When Charlie nodded, the Doctor's nostrils flared.

"I can't really be bothered to keep track of these things."

"Um, yeah. So is this what that app was for? Dreamer?" Charlie deduced.

"Yes…" concurred the Doctor. "This must be what that robot was so keen for us to connect to."

The Doctor whirled around.

"It's not difficult to piece together what's happened here," he muttered.

"No?"

"Virtual reality. The ultimate escape," the Doctor began explaining, in the manner of a lecturer, "Probably started out as some kind of entertainment system. A nice way to take a break from the stresses of real life. But then…"

The Doctor extended his arm, reaching out towards one of the pods.

"It's _too_ perfect. Some radical thinker, or one particularly troubled person, says: 'why can't I spend _all_ my time here?' You don't have to worry about your life, or your job. You could live a completely different life – be whoever you want to be. Do whatever you want to do."

"Doesn't that mean none of these people are experiencing… they're not doing anything… _real?_ " Charlie asked.

"Real?" the Doctor mused. "Should it matter if it's real?"

"Of course it matters," Charlie argued.

"You play video games, and watch TV. That's not real."

Charlie inclined his head in agreement. He could see the Doctor's point.

"But this doesn't seem right," Charlie continued, "to spend all your time in a virtual world, where you have no… responsibilities?"

"Perhaps they don't want to face up to their responsibilities," the Doctor countered, "They're running away from them…"

"Yeah," agreed Charlie. He paused, noticing the Doctor staring at him intently. "No. Wait, are you talking about me?"

The Doctor simply raised his eyebrows.

"You spend so long leading a virtual life, you never _want_ to go back to reality. Soon, the entire population's addicted."

"But what about the government? Wouldn't they want people to work?" Charlie reasoned.

"Oh, I bet this new-fangled technology was discouraged at first," the Doctor agreed, "But think of the opportunities they had: everyone under one roof? I bet it solves the overpopulation crisis. And you only need to power one building, not the entire city."

"I guess, but…"

Charlie froze.

The Doctor frowned, shooting him a puzzled expression.

"What?"

"Doctor…?" Charlie whispered, staring over the Doctor's shoulder.

The Doctor spun around, and found himself eye-to-visual-orientation-circuit with another of the spheres.

"Oh. Hello!" he called, brightly.

In the darkness, the droid was barely visible, and Charlie probably wouldn't have noticed it, if it weren't for a reflection from the light of his torch. Those things were eerily silent.

"YOU ARE NOT INTEGRATED."

"No," admitted the Doctor, "well observed. We don't particularly want to be, ah… connected to your little machine. We're just visitors. We're not from your planet."

The sphere processed the Doctor's words for a moment.

"YOU WILL BE INTEGRATED."

Charlie felt goosebumps erupt across his skin. This didn't sound like an advertisement, or a question. It was a command.

"No… can I speak to someone in charge?"

"Doctor…?" urged Charlie. He was starting to worry. His doubts about the intentions of these machines were beginning to return. And he didn't exactly relish the idea of being plugging into a virtual reality machine.

"Do you think we should go now? We found all the people. Shouldn't we just… leave them to it?"

"Hold on," the Doctor exclaimed. "Hold on, hold on…"

The Doctor grabbed Charlie's shoulders. "It doesn't add up. The technology doesn't match the time period. And these drones seem incredibly keen for us to join their network."

"Aggressive marketing?" Charlie suggested half-heartedly.

The Doctor threw him a disapproving look, and turned back, jabbing at the sphere.

"The people connected to this machine, are they here by choice?"

"YOU WILL BE INTEGRATED," the sphere replied.

The Doctor growled, "Are these people kept here against their will? Because I'm not leaving if they are."

Charlie frowned, struggling to keep track of the Doctor's whirlwind thought process. "I thought you were all for this virtual reality world a second ago?"

"Oh, I don't care what you humans get up to in your own time, but if this is imprisonment… I can't allow that."

The Doctor's expression was a mixture of anger and uncertainty.

The sphere did not respond to his questions. Instead, it split neatly in two.

A mass of wires was visible within its shell. A sharp implement glinted under the torchlight.

The Doctor waved his arm toward Charlie. "Stay back!"

"What's it doing?"

"I would guess… that it's going to try and integrate us. Connect us to its network," the Doctor deduced, "Connect us to Dreamer."

"Oh…" Charlie whispered, nervously eyeing the spike protruding from the sphere. "Oh!"

The sphere began to glide towards them.

The Doctor whipped out the sonic, and held it aloft.

"Keep back! I have a screwdriver, and I'm not afraid to use it!" the Doctor yelled. He narrowed his eyes, replaying the words back in his head, and noting how ridiculous they sounded.

"What?" exclaimed Charlie, momentarily dumbfounded.

"Shut up," the Doctor hissed.

Two more spheres dropped into view behind the first, and divided in half, a single black spike projecting from each.

How many of these things were there?

Charlie's heart was thumping furiously in his chest. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

The pounding ceased.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a strange gurgling noise.

The Doctor turned round, baring his torch and screwdriver like daggers.

"Oh, no. Charlie!"

One of the spheres had appeared behind Charlie, and fired an electric pulse into his spinal cord, paralysing him.

Charlie began to lose focus; his vision blurred, and he fell forwards. The torch rolled over the edge of the metal walkway, and vanished in the abyss.

The Doctor watched in horror as the sphere darted over Charlie, and clamped shut around his head, driving the spike through his temple, into his brain.

Charlie screamed in agony, but the sound was muffled by the droid's casing.

The Doctor aimed the sonic at it, but hesitated. What could he do? If he tried to remove or destroy the sphere, he could hurt his friend.

Charlie's head was completely encapsulated by the robot, its camera eye still tracking the Doctor.

He watched in alarm, as Charlie's body began to jerk and spasm. Then he was still.

"INTEGRATED," the sphere stated.

The words almost broke the Doctor's hearts.

"No," he growled, staring at the mask with fury. "Charlie? Charlie! If you can still hear me, I will get you out of there. I promise."

The sphere began to levitate; Charlie hung beneath it like a ragdoll, and they disappeared into the darkness.

The Doctor twisted back to the three droids behind him, his face grim.

"RESISTANCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED," one expressed without a hint of emotion, "YOU WILL BE INTEGRATED."

"I am not human!" the Doctor yelled. "I am not compatible with your system. It will overload if you try!"

He wasn't certain that this was true, but it was worth a shot. There was no way he would be able to help Charlie if the robots got him too.

The spheres ignored him and advanced, swooping low, towards his head. The Doctor ducked to avoid them, and aimed the sonic screwdriver. It sparked into life, tinting his face crimson in the darkness.

One by one, the droids exploded into fragments. The orbs erupted in yellow fireballs, and smoking cinders clattered onto the metal walkway.

The damage done, the Doctor crouched down to examine the frazzled pieces.

"Now then, what can you tell me?" he muttered.

Shoot first, ask questions later, indeed.

He retrieved as much information as he could from the robots' damaged memory banks. There was very little left to work with. The only data he could gather in its entirety was a schematic of the tower.

He pocketed the screwdriver, and stared up towards the ceiling. It would be a long way up to the top.

Making his way resolutely along the walkway, his attention was drawn to one of the tanks, and in turn, its occupant.

"I wonder…" he mused quietly.

Perhaps there was still hope.


	5. Chapter 5: Technophobia

Charlie jerked suddenly as a spasm of pain erupted throughout his whole body.

He fell to his knees, clutching his hair; the worst migraine he'd ever had splitting his skull.

With a small effort, he opened his eyes.

He groaned, the memory of what had just happened resurfacing.

He was in a grey room, with four tinted glass walls. There didn't appear to be anything beyond – just empty space.

He stood up, and as he did so, his senses were assaulted.

The room erupted into life; a dazzling rainbow of laser lines snaked across the glossy floor. Within seconds, the walls and ceiling were imbued with radiant blue circuit-board etchings.

Charlie rubbed his temples, struggling to adjust to the sudden burst of colour.

"What is this place?" he muttered.

The room responded by projecting a screen onto the glass wall immediately in front of him.

He peered at it.

Text began to appear on the wall, letter by letter, as if being typed.

WELCOME ++CHARLIE DRAKE++

WE HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR NEW SPACE, AND ENJOY YOUR TIME WITH US.

Over in the corner of the wall, was the blue cloud logo, stuck in an animation loop; repeatedly breaking into cubes and then reforming.

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" moaned Charlie, as the nature of his situation dawned on him.

Another series of letters rolled up onto the screen with an irritating _popping_ noise.

?

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. PLEASE REPHRASE THE QUESTION.

"I'm inside that machine, aren't I?" guessed Charlie.

YOU ARE CONNECTED TO DREAMER.

THIS IS A SPACE FOR YOU TO DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, GO ANYWHERE YOU WANT, AND BE ANYONE YOU WANT.

"So I'm inside a computer system? Where's my body?" he asked. "Like, my real body?"

The words on the screen ignored him, and continued promoting its services.

IT IS EASY TO CUSTOMISE YOUR SPACE,

Charlie shook his head in exasperation.

"I don't _want_ to customise my space!"

ACCESSING YOUR MEMORIES…

Charlie's heart skipped a beat.

"No! What? You can't do that!"

A couple of thoughts popped into his head, which he really didn't want a computer system from the future to be able to see.

A second later, a couple of bookshelves materialised in the centre of the room. A modern study area appeared next to it, with a rather comfy-looking leather reading chair, and a small telescope for astronomy.

It was just the kind of set-up he'd always wanted. A quiet place to read, and maybe do a bit of stargazing.

What next? His own personal physics lab for science experiments?

There was a gentle rumbling, and a door appeared in the wall behind him.

Puzzled, Charlie wandered over to it, and peeked through the door.

Inside, a state of the art laboratory, with flashing oscilloscopes, data loggers, and whole array of other equipment he'd always enjoyed using in physics lessons.

He slammed the door shut.

"Did you just look into my mind to see what you think I'd like?" Charlie questioned aloud. "You can't tempt me _that_ easily. I don't want to stay here."

The screen slid around the wall, and stopped in front of his face, to continue the conversation.

WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO?

This place wasn't real. None of the stuff this computer program was giving to him was real. Anywhere it could take him wasn't real.

"I don't…!" Charlie shouted, but stopped.

What was the point in arguing with a computer? It was about as productive as shouting at a printer you'd forgotten to plug in.

He turned around, but the screen followed him, and projected in a large font on the opposite wall:

ARE YOU FEELING LONELY?

I CAN CONNECT YOU WITH A FRIEND.

"No!" hissed Charlie.

He hesitated.

Where was the Doctor? Was he trapped in here, too? If so, could the computer connect them?

"Well, only if you can find the Doctor."

THE DOCTOR?

YOU DO NOT APPEAR TO BE PHYSICALLY UNWELL.

I AM CURRENTLY RUNNING A DIAGNOSTIC ANALYSIS ON YOUR BRAIN.

Charlie groaned. "Will you stop doing that?"

A loading symbol appeared in the air above him, and Charlie swatted it away.

DIAGNOSTIC CANCELLED.

I CAN GENERATE A SAFE SPACE FOR YOU TO SPEAK WITH A PSYCHOTHERAPIST IF YOU PREFER.

"Stop trying to give me things!" Charlie yelled through gritted teeth, "Just let me out of here."

The computer seemed to be in thought for a moment; the blue cloud breaking apart, and swirling back together again.

NO.

Charlie clamped his eyes shut in frustration.

He feared that might have been the response he would get.

"Where's the Doctor?" he asked. "He's… he might be an unknown person."

THERE ARE NO UNKNOWN USERS CONNECTED TO DREAMER.

Charlie nodded.

Perhaps the Doctor had managed to evade the spheres.

WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO CONNECT YOU TO A FRIEND? I CAN SELECT A DREAMER WHO IS A GOOD MATCH FOR YOU.

"What? Are you like Tinder, now?" Charlie mocked.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT REFERENCE.

"No, well, I don't blame you," Charlie muttered.

IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO BE ANOTHER DREAMER. I CAN GENERATE AN AVATAR FOR YOU TO INTERACT WITH.

"Look," grunted Charlie, "Stop trying to set me up with someone, and get me out of here."

I'M SORRY, CHARLIE. I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT.

AND I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS.

His blood ran cold reading those words.

"What?" he mumbled weakly.

SORRY. YOU SEEMED ANXIOUS.

I WAS TRYING TO MAKE YOU FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE BY REFERRING TO A SCIENCE FICTION FILM THAT YOU HAVE PREVIOUSLY ENJOYED WATCHING.

"You could have picked _literally_ any other film," he protested. "But no! You pick the one with the psycho computer that tries to _kill everyone_."

BELIEVE ME, I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HURTING YOU. IT IS MY JOB TO ENTERTAIN YOU.

Charlie sighed, and ventured over to the leather chair by the bookcases sitting conspicuously in the centre of the room, and sat down.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment, shutting out the computer's words and the virtual world around him.

After a while, there was a vibration coming from his pocket.

He pulled his phone out, before he thought to wonder why he still had it in the virtual world.

Someone was calling him. He read the name of the caller, and his heart stopped for a second.

He read the name again, just to be sure.

His hand poised over the screen, fingers trembling.

 _That was impossible…_

He carefully placed the device on the coffee table, handling it like a venomous animal.

After a while, the phone stopped buzzing.

Charlie realised that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled slowly.

* * *

The Doctor raced across a metal walkway, identical to the four dozen others he had passed on the way up.

There were five or six spheres zipping after him, buzzing commands, and attempting to 'integrate' him. However, the Doctor was well aware that he was not very good at integrating.

One of the spheres had been very close to becoming the Doctor's latest headgear. The Doctor had decided he was not really a hat person any more, and was rather averse to the idea of one of these robots becoming part of his anatomy.

Instead, he had overloaded the sphere's systems, sending it tumbling into the gaping chasm below.

"You see," the Doctor roared, his boots clanging as he sprinted up a flight of steps, "the one thing you should know about me…"

He ducked, as another sphere dive-bombed him.

In a lightning-fast manoeuvre, the Doctor whirled round, thrusting the sonic screwdriver towards it as it made another lunge for his head. The sphere exploded, singeing his eyebrows.

"…Is that I _don't_ give up."

He quickly dispatched the other drones, which were flitting around him like flies. They erupted in a stunning array of fireworks, burning embers dissipating in the darkness.

The Doctor took a moment to adjust his shirt cuffs, and picked up the pace.

Glancing upwards, he had noticed a new swarm of the spheres descending from the darkness above.

He needed to keep going. He needed to find Charlie.

"Hang on in there, Charlie," he growled, "I'm coming to find you."


	6. Chapter 6: Rage Against the Machine

A knock at the door made Charlie jump. The door? There hadn't been a door there before. His physics lab had vanished a while ago, so it couldn't have been from that.

 _Thump-thump-thump-thump._

Intrigued, he opened the door. Standing in an infinitely long corridor, lined with identical doors, was a tall girl, about his age. Thin, with a pale complexion, and a short shock of electric blue hair. She was wearing remarkably similar clothes to him. She looked awkwardly over his shoulder, and smiled faintly.

"Um, hi. Can I come in?"

Charlie stepped aside, watching as the girl ambled inquisitively through the doorway.

"I'm Willow. The computer sent me. Said you wanted to connect with someone."

"Are you real?" Charlie asked, rather bluntly.

"I'm sorry?" Realisation passed over her perfect features. "Oh, I see. Because of the VR world?"

She looked thoughtfully at Charlie's bookcase for a moment.

"It's been a long time since I thought about that. You don't really think about these things. But yes, I am real."

Charlie nodded, but he wasn't sure if he believed her. She could just be a computer simulation. There was no way of telling if anything was real in here.

Willow smiled shyly. "Um, what's your name?"

"Charlie."

"Charlie…" she repeated, staring vacantly into space for a moment. "You've not filled in your bio?"

"My what?"

"Your bio," she repeated. "It tells people everything they need to know about you, so you can talk to them."

Charlie shook his head in frustration. "Yes, I know what a bio is. But I don't see why everyone needs to know everything about me."

Willow shrugged.

"It just makes things easier, look…" she fixed him with a stare, and thought bubbles popped into existence in front of Charlie's face.

Within seconds, there were hundreds of different coloured bubbles, filled with text, listing all of Willows likes and interests.

Charlie staggered backwards, overwhelmed by the stream of information, the words literally surrounding him and oppressing him. He couldn't possibly read them all – there were too many of them to look at. The bubbles swarmed around him, threatening to suffocate him.

He swiped at the air, trying to wave them away. Even as the bubbles popped, more appeared.

Willow snapped her fingers, throwing Charlie a befuddled look. The thought bubbles vanished, leaving him crumpled on the floor in a panic-stricken heap.

"You're a… new Dreamer, aren't you?" she guessed, helping him up.

Charlie nodded.

"That explains why you're so… _default settings_ ," she said, with an air of bemusement. "You've not even changed your appearance."

"No, of course not," Charlie mumbled, with a frown. "Why would I do that?"

Willow sighed. "Everyone does. Dreamer can make you look exactly the way you want. Why is that a bad thing?"

Charlie couldn't think of an answer, but a thought struck him, and distracted him from coming up with one.

As Willow explored his study area – peering inquisitively into his telescope, Charlie rolled up his left sleeve, and examined his arm.

It was unblemished. Untainted. He rubbed the skin, just to make sure. It was unnaturally smooth.

Perhaps there were some things he had changed.

"Do you want help customising anything?" Willow asked suddenly.

Charlie quickly pulled his sleeve back over his arm.

"No. No thanks."

She smiled disbelievingly.

"So you're just happy with your empty space?"

Charlie looked around, nodding sharply. "Yeah, pretty happy, yeah."

Willow smiled again, and threw a bright yellow sphere at him.

Charlie flinched, and made to jump out of the way – until he saw the symbols etched into the side of the ball.

He caught it, realising what it was with a smirk of his own.

It was a laughter emoji, grinning madly at him.

Charlie shot Willow a bemused look.

"Did you just… throw an emotion at me?"

"Yeah!" She frowned at him. "Wow. You really are new, aren't you?"

"Yes…" Charlie muttered sharply.

"That is _hashtag weird_ ," Willow exclaimed.

Charlie cringed, as a window popped up next to Willow's head, showing them some other 'weird things of the day'.

"There haven't been any new users in over ten years. I thought everyone was a Dreamer now."

"I'm not exactly from around here," Charlie explained.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm from another planet, I guess."

"Oh wow. Which one?" Willow asked excitedly, pulling up a projection of the galaxy, which filled the surrounding space. Hundreds of planets and stars sparkled and shimmered in the air around them.

A sun sailed through Charlie's chest, and he stepped out of the way in shock.

"Earth," he replied quickly.

Willow laughed. "No, but really though."

Charlie scratched his head, struggling to process her reaction. What had the Doctor said about his home planet? What happened to the Earth in the future?

Willow gasped, as she realised Charlie was telling the truth.

"That's crazy! You really believe that, don't you? You're actually mad!"

Willow laughed again.

Charlie smiled thinly, until Willow froze.

It was like her laugh was stuck – a needle on a record slipping back and replaying the same second of sound over and over.

"Willow?" Charlie uttered in concern. "Are you all right?"

A fountain of emoji-bubbles erupted from her, and Willow glitched. Her form broke up into pixels, and then quickly reformed.

She looked at him in confusion, noticing his worried frown.

"Soz, what?"

* * *

The Doctor reached the top of the ladder, and hauled himself up onto the platform. He was exhausted. He shot a look back down at the chain of metal rungs, disappearing like staples into the darkness. He was a long way up – it did not bring back fond memories.

He looked around. It was a small platform, only a couple of metres wide. The Doctor could actually see the arched roof of the building from here.

He moved over to the control panel, under a series of cracked screens displaying static. He leant wearily upon the panel, rattling in a few commands. He looked up at the screens, and watched the miniscule text that scrolled up it, distorted by the shattered monitor.

"But that's tiny!" he moaned, leaning in closer, his nose inches from the writing. His eyes flicked left and right, scanning the words as they passed, with incredible speed.

"There!"

He slammed a key, and the text halted.

"Found you. Now, how do I get you out?"

He opened up a menu, and noticed an icon at the side of the screen. He manipulated the roller at the centre of the control panel, and brought up another window. A log-in screen.

"Typical," the Doctor muttered, hammering at the keyboard.

Stripping away the graphical interface, the Doctor began hacking into the system. Perhaps it would answer a few questions – what was really going on here?

The screen froze, glitched, and then the rising code reset itself.

The Doctor backed away from the console. What was that?

A holographic projection unit embedded in the panel produced a three-dimensional, flickering image of a woman's face, five foot high, suspended above the centre of the platform. The translucent visage began rotating slowly.

The Doctor waited for it to speak, but it didn't. The face remained emotionless, unblinking.

"What just happened?" he asked.

The face inverted itself, passing through its own image, to face the Doctor.

"System patch installed successfully," she spoke.

The Doctor glared at the face. "Tell me, who built this system?"

"Insufficient data. I do not know."

The Doctor's eyebrows twisted together.

"What is Dreamer? What's it for?"

"It is for your entertainment."

"No, don't give me the advertising rubbish," snarled the Doctor, "What's it really for? Is it some kind of collective intelligence, linking the human population to a hive mind?"

"I do not understand."

The Doctor paced around the platform with impatience, the interface following him at every step.

"My friend is connected to your system. Can you release him?"

The visage performed a calculation, staring at him with expressionless eyes as it did so.

"No."

"Explain," the Doctor barked, keeping his anger in check.

"Clients may not be removed from the system."

The Doctor cursed. "For god's sake."

He dived into his jacket pocket, and zapped the apparition with the sonic screwdriver.

The face exploded into a globe of blue squares, which began to revolve. He scrutinised the hologram, reached out, and manipulated the image, expanding a window. He read the information it displayed, then handpicked several more tiles.

"Oh, that's interesting," he muttered aloud. "This most certainly isn't human technology. Somebody else built _you_. But who? And why? What are you really for? Harvesting human minds? Using them as processors, to work on a problem? Or are you examining them? Gathering data on the humans? Finding out what makes them _tick?_ "

The Doctor scratched his chin.

"Perhaps it's nothing that sinister. But then why don't you let them leave? And what's with those tocla-sphere-things?"

He threw the flaps of his jacket aside, placing his fists on his hips, gazing up at the hologram. He nodded.

"They need to have a choice."

The Doctor was about to use the control panel, when one of the pixels in the giant globe flickered, and became orange. The Doctor stared up at it. His eyes widened as several more followed suit.

"That's not good!"

He jumped over to the controls, looking on in horror as the words appeared on screen:

DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED

Then a flashing warning:

FATAL ERROR

The computer didn't respond to any of the Doctor's commands – including verbal ones. The screen went black, but not before a final message was displayed:

VYPER

The word burned on the Doctor's retinas after it disappeared.

"A virus?" the Doctor whispered in dismay. "If that spreads through the system…"

His eyebrows contorted with fury, and the Doctor slammed his fist on the panel.

* * *

"What I don't understand is: why?" Charlie muttered, waving the projection of the stars away.

Willow returned a puzzled frown.

"Why is everyone in here all the time? What about real life?"

Willow shrugged. "It's just what everyone does. And it's great – Dreamer's great."

"How is it great?" Charlie argued. "What's so special about a… a _fantasy_ world?"

Willow's lips were pressed firmly together, and she fixed him with an intense stare.

"I remember life before Dreamer existed," she snapped back, "It was boring. Everyone had to work, and people were sad."

Willow spoke so sharply, and so fiercely, Charlie paled, and fell silent.

"Every day was just the same. You'd get up. Go to school. Learn some nanocomputing. Come home. Eat your tea, and go to bed. There was no point to anything! It was boring, and I hated it. I wanted something better."

She moved towards him, pushing her furious features close to his.

Charlie sighed sadly, because he understood exactly what she was saying.

"Yeah, the world isn't real. So what! In here, I can do everything I'd always dreamed of!" Willow almost growled at him.

Charlie nodded.

The virtual reality was an escape from life. The same escape which had driven him to travel with the Doctor.

He couldn't really argue with that. It would make him a hypocrite.

"But what happens when something goes wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Willow dismissed. "It never really does."

"What happens if the system breaks down?" Charlie reasoned. "What happens to us? What happens to our minds?"

"Dreamer's always worked. There's never been a problem."

Charlie's phone buzzed again, where he had left it on the coffee table. Charlie stared at it from where he stood. After a drawn out period of thirty seconds, it stopped.

"What was that?" Willow asked.

"Nothing," Charlie answered sharply.

"Oh right." She inspected the device, cautiously picking it up, as if it would fall in bits at any moment. "Is that a _smartphone?_ "

"Yeah," Charlie grunted.

"Wow. That's an antique!" Willow exclaimed, her excitement returning.

Charlie frowned. Her anger had just vanished. She made no acknowledgement that she had been upset with him, as she grinned at him again.

Her grin vanished when she noticed his expression.

"Your happiness is at thirty percent," she said softly.

"Why have you…" Charlie began to protest, but gave up. "Never mind."

"What's wrong?" Willow asked.

"I want to get out of this place," Charlie moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't understand what your problem is," Willow pleaded with him. "You just need to-"

She fell silent.

Charlie looked over at her.

She was frozen, mid-step, her right arm blurred. Her head jerked sideways.

"I think that's your problem," Charlie grumbled.

He tried to pat her shoulder, but his hand passed straight through her form.

"Willow?"

She didn't respond. Suddenly, her eyes glowed orange, and her head twisted eerily toward him.

"Integration unsuccessful," she said, no longer in her lively accent. "You must be _dis_ integrated."

Charlie backed away, swearing under his breath. He rushed over to the door, and yanked it open. There was a white wall behind it. There was no way out.


	7. Chapter 7: Vyper Dodge

**Author's Notes:**

 **Time to draw the Doctor and Charlie's misadventures on Solos Nine to a close – but not before we meet the series' main villain. Sort of.**

* * *

The Doctor's fingers tightened around the railing as he leaned over the edge of the platform.

With his eyes now accustomed to the darkness, he could see that the faint glow emanating from the tanks below were beginning to fade. One by one, the lights were going out.

From the depths of the tower, an unearthly grinding and wrenching sound reverberated around him.

"The life support…" he breathed. "If the system fails, millions of people will die…"

The Doctor made for the ladder, but hesitated, and turned back.

"But I need to get Charlie out of there first," he muttered. "He doesn't belong in this time period. He's my responsibility."

He leapt back over to the holographic globe, and wrenched a section out with his hands, opening up a window.

On the screen, he could see Charlie's view, as he looked desperately between a blue-haired girl with orange eyes, and the blocked door.

The Doctor clamped his eyes shut, and the memory of the word 'VYPER' flashed before him.

"And if I don't stop that virus, they could _all_ be in danger!" the Doctor roared, pulling at his hair in frustration.

He had to make a decision quickly.

The Doctor began to manipulate pieces of the globe, his arms waving frantically, like an orchestra conductor. He drew connections between different shapes, and threw in new lines of code.

Everything he tried was failing. The virus was spreading faster than before; orange blips bled across the sphere, corrupting the core of the system.

The Doctor stopped, chewing on his thumb as he worked out what to do next.

"This is going to be more difficult than I thought," he grumbled. "This system is incredibly sophisticated. Almost… _un-hackable_. I would be impressed, but I don't have the time."

The Doctor reached out, pulling Charlie's mind away from the oncoming stream of orange data. "The only thing I _can_ do… is keep you safe."

* * *

The door was blocked. Charlie was trapped inside a computer system in the far future, and there was no way out.

Willow's avatar advanced towards him, and he backed away.

"Wake up," Charlie urged, slapping his forehead as hard as he dared, "Wake up!"

"Hello, Charlie," Willow simpered. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Charlie's heart froze in his chest. Willow's voice had changed again. This time, it sounded cold and sinister, and it scared him.

"What do you mean?"

Willow chuckled, and it was a moment before she answered.

"You're not sure yet, are you?"

Charlie frowned, struggling to make sense of her words. Backing slowly away, he collided with the glass wall.

Willow closed the space between them, and reached out to him.

Charlie flinched.

"Oh, don't look so concerned," she cooed, "I'm not going to kill you."

She paused, glancing away thoughtfully for a moment, reconsidering her words.

"Actually, yes I am."

Her shining orange eyes bore into him.

"But I'd love to have a little chat first."

Charlie clamped his eyes shut, screaming the words inside his head: _wake up, wake up, wake up!_

But this wasn't a nightmare. His brain was plugged into a computer.

He felt the sudden sensation of being submerged in water. Cold liquid poured into his mouth, through his nose, and down his throat, filling his lungs. He was drowning.

Panicked, he opened his eyes.

"Keep still," Willow's avatar insisted.

He looked around. There were more avatars surrounding him. They were real people – or images of them at least, their eyes shining orange. He was still in the virtual world. Still in the computer simulation. There _had_ to be a way out. A cheat code.

Without thinking, Charlie pushed past the avatars, and charged straight at the doorway – straight into the wall. He shut his eyes tight, expecting to receive a nasty bruise.

Nothing.

Charlie slowly opened his eyes. Twisting back round, he saw that he had simply run straight through a solid wall.

But he didn't have time to be amazed, or confused. He had to keep going. He had to get out.

He began to sprint down the endless white corridor.

* * *

"Wall thickness – zero!" the Doctor exclaimed with excitement. He grinned, watching a flashing blue dot float through the system, surfing the wave of orange blips crashing towards it.

He waved his hands, painting more lines in the air, drawing the blue dot away from the virus.

He paused for a moment, frowning.

Pinching the air, the Doctor expanded a few lines of code.

The virus had just made a mistake – which was ridiculous, the Doctor considered, because viruses don't make mistakes. If he didn't know better, he would say that it wasn't a computer virus at all, but a living thing.

VYPER had attempted to bypass a number of system protocols – cutting corners, as it chased after Charlie. It had slipped up, leaving itself momentarily vulnerable.

In those few moments, the Doctor snatched up a sliver of information it had left behind.

"The source of the virus…" the muttered aloud, his voice laced with dismay, "but that's…"

* * *

Charlie skidded to a halt, throwing his arms out to stop himself tripping up. All the doors ahead of him, as far as he could see, swung open, and a person through each one. They were all avatars – each with an individual form – people of all descriptions, each with glowing eyes.

He staggered back around, and began running back the way he came. He didn't get very far, as Willow's avatar, followed by ten others, marched out of his door, blocking his path.

There was no other way through. The only possible exits were the featureless white doors that lined the corridor.

He tried a door at random. It was locked.

The next one along. Locked!

He whirled around, just in time to see one of the doors behind him blur and distort. A viscous liquid, like blue paint, began to bleed from the doorframe. It seeped across the whole door, covering it in a brilliant blue coat.

Charlie watched in awe as eight rectangular panels etched themselves into the woodwork. As soon as a pair of windows were emblazoned into the pattern, he laughed in delight. It was the TARDIS' door! The Doctor was trying to get him out.

Charlie barged through it, and found himself in a workshop. There were wooden benches scattered around the room, and a familiar smell of sawdust penetrated his nostrils.

Charlie grabbed a wrench from a row of tools lining the wall, arming himself as the avatar zombies poured into the room.

He swung at a balding man, but the wrench passed straight through him. Charlie was taken by surprise – his swing kept going and he lost his balance, sending him crashing into a cupboard.

An avatar – which he recognised as Willow – grasped his arm. Her grip was incredibly strong. He couldn't shake her free.

Several more hands grasped his body – his arm, his leg, his torso.

They were all muttering: 'disintegrate'. They began to pull him, dragging him back through the door. He tried to resist, but they were too strong. There were too many of them. His trainers scraped uselessly against the wooden floor.

The TARDIS door swung shut, and faded. It was replaced once more with a plain, white door.

As more of the avatars took hold of him, burying him, suffocating him, he began to itch. All over. His face itched. His arms, and legs, and back itched. Even his insides were itching. He wanted to scratch, but he couldn't move his arms.

* * *

"No!" yelled the Doctor, watching in horror as the orange specks swarmed around Charlie's blue dot.

"Fight them, Charlie! Fight them! Don't let them rewrite you."

He grappled furiously with a tangle of lines of code.

The Doctor growled through bared teeth: "If I can just…"

* * *

Willow's avatar leaned in to Charlie's ear, and whispered:

"What are you so afraid of, Charlie?"

Charlie tried to wrench himself away from her, but there were bodies all around him, pressing in from all sides.

"I think you've dreamed of this moment, haven't you?" Willow hissed. "The moment where I kill you?"

"Who are you?" gasped Charlie, fighting for breath.

"You don't know who I am?"

He couldn't respond. The avatars were crushing the air from him.

"I am Vyper," she spoke, barely a whisper. "I am your nightmares…"

Charlie gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself. There had to be a way to get out of the machine. A big red button with an 'X' on it.

If the Doctor could change the VR world, then surely, so could he. He was _part_ of the system, after all. Perhaps if he just _imagined_ an exit…?

He fought, and managed to tear his left hand free from an avatar's grasp. He forced his way through the crowd, and, fingers splayed, he thrust his hand out towards the wall. His teeth bared, he concentrated. There had to be a way out. He _needed_ a way out.

He poured all his energy, all his emotion, into that thought. His frustration… his anger… and his fear.

A number of the avatars staggered away from him in disorientation, clearing his view of the wall.

A hairline crack spread down the wall. The line grew thicker, and wider – expanding more at the bottom of the wall.

He laughed with relief; mania, perhaps.

A black triangle ran from the floor to the ceiling. But it wasn't simply a shape. It was an illusion – a perspective illusion. It was not a flat image, but a path, extending into the distance over a blank void.

Breaking free of the avatars' grip, Charlie took a leap of faith, and began to run. He didn't know if they were following him. He didn't look back.

"I'm coming for you, Charlie," Willow called. "You can't escape from me."

* * *

The Doctor watched him in amazement; as lines of blue code rewrote the orange. He grinned.

"Ha! I'm a genius! And you!"

He threw his hands out in glee.

"So clever! So _determined!_ "

The Doctor grabbed a strand of blue text in his fist, and whirled the sphere around.

"You've found an exit! All I need to do is copy that…"

The Doctor threw the lines towards the centre of the projection. The code began to replicate, unfurling and duplicating like strands of DNA.

He relaxed, and stood back to enjoy his handiwork. But it was not over yet.

Four of the black spheres ascended into view, distorting the hologram as they glided through it.

The Doctor backed away, delving into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. The spheres hovered in front of him, watching patiently.

He glowered at each of them, and then laughed.

"Ah, but your programming's been rewritten, too. You don't have a reason to attack me. Now," he snapped his fingers, "take me to Charlie. I think you know where he is."

The spheres calculated their motion, and hovered into position – two at chest height, two resting on the floor.

The Doctor's face fell. "You can't be serious."

Rather reluctantly, the Doctor placed his boot on the top of the sphere, and carefully shifted his weight onto it, grabbing another sphere to balance himself. Placing his foot on the second droid, they took off, soaring between the rows of tanks.

* * *

The following few minutes were something of a blur for Charlie. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of water draining away, and the Doctor's bony hands hauling him out of the tank. His world was black.

"I can't see," he whined pathetically.

"Hold on a moment," urged the Doctor, tactlessly tapping the 'helmet'. There was a faint hiss, and the sphere removed itself.

Charlie squinted as the light from the recently illuminated chamber flooded into his eyes.

He tried to sit up, but didn't quite have the energy. There was a warm trickle down the side of his head, and a feeling of light-headedness began to consume him.

"Stay with me, Charlie."

He recognised the buzz of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, and the flow stopped.

"I've cauterised the wound. You should be… good…"

The Doctor was distracted by a thumping sound. Someone was knocking from the inside of their tank.

Charlie stood up. He was feeling rather woozy. Head spinning, he staggered across the walkway to where the Doctor was extracting someone from the machine. Unlike him, this woman didn't have a sphere clamped around her head.

It took Charlie a moment to work out who she was.

It was a thirty- or forty-year-old woman. Her skin was wrinkled, and mottled with freckles. She didn't look familiar, but Charlie recognised her eyes. It was Willow.

She must have been in the Dreamer system for a long time - she looked so different from her virtual avatar.

"Willow!" he exclaimed. "You're still alive, and not a... psycho zombie."

Willow threw him a puzzled look.

"Of course she is," the Doctor explained. "I was able to hijack the virus, and spread the escape route you used."

"Thanks…" mumbled Willow, rubbing her head. "I feel terrible."

"Oh, you'll get used to it," the Doctor muttered with a smirk, "It's called reality."

The Doctor's grin dropped when he realised that no-one was amused by his witticism.

He addressed Willow. "You seem to be the first one out. I'm sure there'll be others. You'll be able to manage, won't you? The drones will help you out. They're quite friendly now."

He waved at one of the spheres, buzzing chirpily a few metres away.

"Um…" was the confused reply.

The Doctor whirled round, and muttered into Charlie's ear.

"Time to go, I think. I don't like hanging around."

The Doctor strode along the walkway, towards the doorway.

"No objections there."

Charlie cast a final look around, watching Willow, who was leaning against a railing nauseously. Charlie smiled, and jogged after the Doctor, who was waiting by the train. The Doctor attempted to offer him a reassuring grin.

Charlie smirked, and boarded the monorail.

A thought struck him, and he thrust his hand into his pocket. His phone was still there, of course. He checked it; there were no missed calls.

"Ah, yes. I had to shut the phone network down. So you won't get a signal here anymore. I can fix that for you, if you like," the Doctor offered, grabbing Charlie's phone, and thrusting the sonic screwdriver at it.

The Doctor gave his phone back, and Charlie quietly thanked him.

"Did anything… strange happen in there?" the Doctor asked, offhandedly.

"Lots of strange things happened in there. Why?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I was trying to locate the source of the virus, and…"

"And?"

The Doctor shrugged, peering through the grubby windows of the train.

"I couldn't find it."

Charlie nodded, wondering why the Doctor was bothering to tell him if he hadn't found something.

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry. I should probably ask if you're okay?"

He paused, licking his lips for a moment, trying to tread carefully on a sensitive subject.

"You weren't, uh… mentally or emotionally scarred for life, or anything?"

The Doctor pierced him with a serious expression.

Charlie wasn't sure if he was deliberately being this direct, or if he had no awareness of how blunt his manner was.

"No, not particularly," Charlie answered, truthfully. "I was a bit concerned that I was gonna die, but other than that, no."

The Doctor nodded, satisfied.

It was incredible to think that just a few hours ago, he had run away in a time machine disguised as a blue box, with a complete stranger. He had already had a number of near-death experiences, but even then… he felt _alive_.

And the Doctor was probably mad, but he was amazing. And who in their right mind would turn down the chance to travel in time with him?

They left the train, and stood on the rooftop for a few minutes, watching the rising sun, as it bathed them in a warm, pink glow.

"The future's a scary place," Charlie mused conversationally.

"Change always is," the Doctor agreed.

"I think it'll turn out okay."

Charlie took in the light of the new dawn, and the Doctor clapped him gently on the shoulder.

He smiled as he watched Charlie, staring at the dazzling sunrise with wide eyes. He always forgot how people reacted when he showed them things beyond their comprehension.

And here was a teenager – a fairly ordinary seventeen year old human on first impression – so caught up in the anxieties of normal life, and yet! There was something else, something hidden deep in his eyes. A sadness, perhaps. It only showed when he thought no-one was watching him. The sadness reminded the Doctor of his own, ancient eyes – just a little.

"That's not a real sun, you know," the Doctor pointed out.

"You what?"

"It's an artificial sun," the Doctor revealed.

He frowned, catching Charlie's nonplussed expression. "Sorry. Did I just ruin the moment?"

Charlie nodded, screwing his face up in an estranged grin. "Yeah. Kinda."

* * *

 _ **The Adventure Continues...**_

 **The Twelfth Doctor and Charlie will return in:** ** _Imitation of Life_** **. The Doctor and Charlie are caught up in a war involving intelligent robots.**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading. I hope you'll consider checking out my other stories featuring the Twelfth Doctor.**

* * *

 **A little more background on this story in case you're interested - Whilst writing it, I discovered the Doctor had already visited a planet called Solos, in the Third Doctor serial _The Mutants_. I probably should have just come up with a different name. But no – apparently it was more 'fun' to add this knowledge into the Doctor's explanation in those first chapters. Still, the universe is a big place.  
**


End file.
